Born One Foot In The Grave
by YamiPaladinofChaos
Summary: Some are born closer to death than others. A chronicle of Miroku's early life. [Part Two] “By living, Miroku, we fight Naraku every day.”
1. Necrosis

_**Disclaimer- I don't own Inuyasha.**_

Despite having been so young, Miroku clearly remembers the day his life changed.

It was an innocent question, or so he believed. His father had just a bear youkai, and was forced to use the Kazaana in front of his son, as he had done in a few occassions.

However, today... today Miroku wanted to understand.

Wanted to know.

How was a child supposed to understand that ignorance was bliss?

"Father? Where did you get the Kazaana?"

His father, normally so serene and gentle, became violently disturbed, actually spinning abruptly to face his son. His face was one that Miroku could never forget, full of suffering and pain, and even tears.

After all, he could see just where his own son's life would lead.

To the grave.

"It's a very long story Miroku. Perhaps we should find a place to rest first." He replied softly, a sort of cold mask enveloping his face.

Disturbed by his father's reaction to the question, Miroku followed silently.

After the usual line and pointless exorcism, his father sat the two of them in a room, closed the doors, and left only one candle burning.

His father's face was that same stony mask, but those eyes were full of sorrow.

Miroku found himself afraid.

"My son... the Kazaana is a curse, placed upon our family by a demon named Naraku." The tale was spun, the deeds of the past unveiled. And with each word, a pit of fear grew in Miroku's stomach, festering and twisting and churning, a disease that spread throughout his body.

But the finale of the story hit Miroku the hardest.

"And if I fail in this task, Miroku... the Kazaana will pass to you, and the task of defeating Naraku and freeing our family from this wretched fate as well."

The boy could not understand.

What child is ready to know that he will die within a the next two decades? Or that his father would die within the next year or so?

His father's eyes were sad, and the tears flowed freely. "I am so sorry my boy." He whispered quietly, embracing his son. "I wish it could be some other way." His father pulled back, his face twisted into a far too cheerful smile, though his eyes remained sad.

"However, this gives you a valid reason to try and get every woman you can, my boy. The family line must continue on, after all." He laughed, a tad forced, and patted his son on the back.

At his son's still too serious look, his father looked at him with a serenity that Miroku was jealous of. "My son, one day Naraku will be brought to justice. And someone with our blood will be there to do it. One day."

And on that day, Miroku made a vow to never have to say these words to his own son.


	2. Living

_**Disclaimer- I don't own Inuyasha.**_

Like all children, Miroku did not understand many things.

He did not understand why there were poor people begging for scraps and rich people who were fat and lazy.

He did not understand why his father, who was dying a little every day, chose to spend much of his time scamming the rich, drinking and spending time with women, and occasionally even doing good deeds.

And like all children, he asked questions.

"Father? Why do you do these things?" he asked quietly, his voice low and curious.

His father turned towards him with a smiling eye. "My boy, you must learn to enjoy the pleasures of life, and not be concerned with your fate."

"But you are dying father! The Kazaana-" Miroku said pleadingly, his voice the desperation only a helpless child could know.

"Is a curse," his father interrupted, "placed on us by Naraku. I'm quite aware of that, Miroku." He said, reproach thick in his voice, causing the boy to flinch in response.

Then his eyes softened, and he bent forward, looking his son in the eye. "And that is why I choose to live. Because Naraku would want us to suffer, to agonize over every swiftly passing moment of our lives."

He looked at his son, and watched the troubled look linger, and spoke again. "Son, even if I did not posses the Kazaana, I would die sooner or later, either to a demon or to old age. Death is not your enemy. Death is merely a continuation on the journey of existence."

"I don't understand," Miroku said stubbornly. "We could be hunting Naraku down and catch up to him so much faster if you would only-"

His father shushed him with a quiet whisper. "Naraku is elusive, my son. But as I told you before, he will die, whether by my hand, your hand, or by another's, and we will be free." There was a certain gentle wisdom in his voice that Miroku envied. "And should we die, we will still be free of this mortal coil and this Kazaana."

"So you're saying it doesn't matter if we kill Naraku or not!" Miroku challenged, his voice still filled with the stubborn resistance of a child.

Shaking his head, his father merely looked at him with unaffected patience. "Nay, son. It does matter a great deal to me if I kill Naraku." The look he gave Miroku told the boy that his father was thinking of him as he spoke.

Feeling chastised despite no harsh words from his father, Miroku looked downwards, abashed. "I still don't understand," he murmured, confusion quieting his voice.

"I don't expect you to yet," his father replied calmly, "But Naraku is a cruel monster, and revels in our suffering from this Kazaana. He _wants_ us to be afraid, to cut ourselves away from life and be consumed by hatred and despair."

The smile was serene and gentle. "By living, Miroku, we fight Naraku every day."


End file.
